


Wretched Summer

by nerdrumple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Curse AU, F/M, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdrumple/pseuds/nerdrumple
Summary: A heat wave leaves Belle having terrible, wild dreams about a man who disappears before she even wakes.





	Wretched Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas in July, [kaythelostgirl](http://kaythelostgirl.tumblr.com/)! Your prompt went in ten different directions before I finally landed it here, hope you enjoy!

The AC in the library wasn’t working, and Belle’s blouse was sticking to the skin between her breasts. Sweat trickled down, encouraging the sheer fabric to cling in the most embarrassing of ways.

Her hair was plaited and flung over her shoulder, but her neck was still hot and red. She forgoed makeup that morning, no need to melt it off today. Her thighs kept sticking together no matter how many times she recrossed her legs, and she’d kicked off her heels by 9:30 am. She wondered if she could get away with undoing a few buttons, or simply throwing in the towel entirely and going the rest of the day nude.

Sweltering attire was the least of her worries, but it was a constant reminder of her worst: Leroy wouldn’t be in to fix the AC until Thursday. He was too busy helping the rest of the town with similar issues to battle Storybrooke’s sudden and dismal heat wave.

Belle was tempted to close. No one was coming in, they were all hiding out at the ice cream shop or Granny’s, where the cool air was managing just fine. Her books, though, she worried for them. She’d set up oscillating fans between the stacks, but they only seemed to be pushing the heat from one end of the library to the next.

“Hello, Earth to Belle?”

The phrase had Belle snapping to attention, chin out of her palm and nearly toppling out of her chair. She almost collided with with the fan next to her, grasping its middle to keep it steady and help regain her balance.

Ruby stood in front of her with two iced coffees; one with the straw poking out of the edge of her smile and the other held out to Belle. “Morning there, space cadet.”

“Thank you,” Belle tried to say with enthusiasm while she accepted the drink, but just ended up slumping back down onto the circulation desk, cursing the way her skirt stuck to her like a second skin. Wasn’t cotton supposed to breathe?

“What’s the matter, Belle? You’ve been like this all morning.”

“Like what?”

“Lethargic. Cranky. Dazed.”

“It’s hot, Ruby. And Leroy won’t be in to fix the AC until - ”

“Thursday, I know. I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know could sweat. What I mean is, you look like something other than a heat wave is troubling you.”

Belle waved her hand to dismiss the notion, favoring a sip of her iced coffee instead.

Ruby arched a brow. “Not just hot. You look . . . bothered. You got romantic troubles?

“What?” Belle asked, squinting her eyes.

Ruby took a long sip of her drink and tapped a red nail against the cup’s condensation.

“Is it Will?” she guessed.

“Will?” Belle blanched. “We broke up well over a year ago.”

“Yeah, but he’s getting married.”

Belle blanched a second time. “He _is_? What? To . . . Anastasia?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah,” Belle mused. “Good for them.”

Ruby popped up on the counter to sit next to Belle, angling the fan so it’d hit both of them.

“So. Who’s the guy?” she asked. “Or girl?” she said, waggling her brows.

“I’m not dating anyone, Ruby,” Belle said quietly.

“So who are you pining over, wishing you could date? I’ve got a few guesses, if you wanna hear.”

“I’d rather not, thank you.”

“Belle. I’m serious. What’s eating you?”

Belle slumped over her desk again, toeing her heels where they lay underneath the desk. “I’m just . . . tired. I haven’t been sleeping.”

Ruby leaned back and rest her elbows on the counter, taking another long sip of her drink. “Hmm. That’s right. No AC down here, no AC up there, huh? Your apartment too hot? You could always sleep at the inn till it’s fixed.”

“Thank you, but . . . I’d rather not have anyone hear me try to sleep.”

“ _Hear_ you?” Ruby said with another arched brow.

Belle bit her lip, looking embarrassed. “You’re, uh, you’re right, it’s not just the heat that’s bothering me.”

“I knew it!” Ruby said, slapping a hand on the counter. “So, what troubles you, my friend? That’s suddenly made you a loud sleeper?”

“I’m _not_ sleeping, that’s the trouble. And it’s . . . um, it’s a guy, sort of.”

“Yes. Yup. Called it. So, spill.”

“Look,” Belle said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not what you think, it’s . . . weird.”

“Like you met on the internet weird? Yeah, lotta weirdos on there.”

“No,” Belle laughed. “I didn’t meet anyone on the internet, this is . . . weirder.”

“Weirder than the internet,” Ruby mused. “I kind of feel like that narrows it down to . . . nothing. Unless you joined, like, a kinky knitting group or something.”

“No,” Belle laughed again. “Jeez, Ruby, no.”

“Okay. I’m done messing around. Tell me, please.”

Belle’s lip tugged into a half smile while she considered her words. “I’ve been having these . . . dreams. A really bizarre recurring dream, actually.”

“Dreams,” Ruby said, then, correcting, “ _dream_. Single. Recurring.”

“Yeah. And, well. It’s. Um. A sex dream.”

“Nice,” Ruby said, taking another sip.

Belle rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah, it’s nice. But it’s also . . . oh, Ruby, it’s awful. The dream, it's . . it’s very . . . intense. And amazing. But then it just . . . ends.”

“Before you get to the good part?”

“I guess you could put it like that,” Belle said, smiling softly. “But it’s not just sex, the dream is . . . kind of frightening? We’re together, and just when it’s getting . . . you know, _good_ , he . . . disappears.”

“Like . . . he leaves?”

“No, I mean . . . he dissolves into the bed, or something. And. I _feel_ it Ruby, I just . . . I lose him, and it _hurts_ . I start crying for him, and trying so hard to find him, and . . .” she looked to Ruby, worried she wasn’t making sense, worried it was all too strange to understand. “It’s this feeling of desperation, Ruby. And I can’t sleep. I stay up all night feeling like I’ve _lost_ him.”

“So. Not a fun sex dream.”

Belle put her head in her hands. “Not at all.”

“He _dissolves_ into the bed?”

“. . . I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“And this is a . . . noisy dream? That why you won’t sleep at the inn?”

“I end up _crying_ , Ruby! It’s embarrassing, more than anything else.”

“. . . you sure it isn’t anyone I know?”

Belle pulled her head back up, furrowed her brows. “Look, this isn’t . . . some silly gossip or a person I have a crush on. _I_ don’t even know who it is. It’s this wild . . . it’s this dream I’ve been having, and whoever it is, I’m not just fooling around with them. I . . . I know this sounds strange, but I love them. Ruby, I _love_ him. And when he disappears . . . it’s like he dies, and . . . God, it’s like I die too . . .”

“Okay. Okay. I think I understand. This is very serious for you. Why don’t you write it down, yeah? That helps me when I’m working through something. Helps me to lay it all out and see what I need to do.”

“Write it down,” Belle said, thinking.

“Yeah. Write down your dream.”

Belle chewed her lip a bit, then gave Ruby a stare. “You just want to read my sex dream.”

“Absolutely, I do. But I’m serious, about it being helpful to write it down.”

Belle continued chewing on her lip. “All right. All right. I’ll do it,” she said, then slumped forward again, head on the counter. “But honestly, I’d rather take a nap.”

Ruby laughed and affectionately rubbed Belle’s back. “Go ahead, I’ll cover for you in case anyone comes in. Besides, if you start having the sex dream right now, _that’ll_ be something.”

#### ***

 

Ruby shuffled through the stack of papers Belle had printed off for her, reread pages 5 and 6 slowly, then shuffled them again.

“Well?” Belle asked timidly. Ruby was propped atop the circulation desk again while Belle was busy hogging the fan.

“You’re right,” Ruby said, eyes still locked on the page in front of her. “This is totally hot. Until you get to . . .” and she shuffled the pages again, reaching page 8, “here. Then it’s totally _not_. It’s super depressing.”

“Tell me about it,” Belle muttered.

It was Wednesday, and if Belle could manage one more day before Leroy was due then she just might survive this heat wave after all. Her dream, however, was killing her slowly, and she was at a complete loss as how to recover.

Ruby stacked the pages back into their proper order, and eyed her friend. Belle’s clothes were sticking to her in an awkward way thanks to the heat wave and her stubborn commitment to blouses and pencil shirts. Ruby’s cut-off shorts and barely-there tee were much better options in this heat, she mused. Belle had attempted to sweep her hair into an updo to keep it off her neck but it kept falling, and her skin was red and shiny with perspiration.

But what truly troubled Ruby were the dark circles under Belle’s red-rimmed eyes, and the vacant stare she cast about the room.

“You want another nap, Belle? I don’t mind covering for you again.”

Belle offered a sheepish smile and a shake of the head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. But tell me, please, what you think of the, eh, story.”

Ruby nodded, shifted the papers once more, grabbed a stapler and properly put them together. “I think . . . it sounds like the story is about you searching for him. And when you find him, you’re both so _happy_ to be together again that you two just . . . go nuts.”

“Yeah,” Belle said, blushing.

“And then, somehow, in the middle of it, some . . . _force_ . . . just . . . takes him, right? And then he’s gone, and there’s no way for you to get him back.”

“Please don’t word it like that,” Belle whispered, chewing her lip.

“You’re right, sorry. You’ll get him back, we’ll find a way. The solution is to obviously find out what you can do to keep him from disappearing, or a way to bring him back once he’s gone.”

“Right,” Belle nodded.

“K. So. This is a dream, so . . . how?”

Belle sighed in frustration, folding her arms on top of the counter and dropping her head on them in defeat. “I have no idea.”

Ruby rest Belle’s story on the counter, smoothing it over her palms while she thought. “Maybe we could tackle this like language lessons. You know those people who listen to recordings of people talking in the language they’re trying to learn? They play them while they sleep? We could do something like that.”

“How?”

“Positive affirmations. ‘He will not leave,’ or ‘you will find him,’ that kind of thing. Pump up your dream-self.”

Belle rose her head and rest her chin in the crook of her arm, feeling hopeless but grateful for Ruby’s attempts. “Perhaps.”

“At least try it, you know? What if we - ” Ruby started, but she heard someone opening the library door behind her. Both Ruby and Belle straightened as Mr. Gold entered the room.

He strode straight for the circulation desk, carrying a small mountain of books that Belle helped him ease onto the counter.

“Done with these already? You’ve been whipping through books rather quickly, Mr. Gold,” Belle said, her attempt at cheeriness sounding groggy and lost through the fog of her tiredness.

“The night is full of long and empty hours that need filling,” Gold uttered cryptically, and Ruby raised a brow. She suddenly saw a pair of twins in front of her - groggy voices, dark circles under red-rimmed eyes, sweating faces and limbs barely able to lift their books to the counter. Wrecked and weary, Gold and Belle were nearly a perfect reflection of each other.

Ruby’s mouth gaped.

“Are you having trouble sleeping, Mr. Gold?” she asked.

“Just bad dreams,” he muttered, then remembering himself, he shook his head and resumed his dealer’s mask. “Not that it’s of any matter to you.”

“Of course not,” Ruby said, speaking so quietly and slowly as to not really say anything at all, too busy was her mind whirring at the answer in front of her.

Gold started asking Belle for book recommendations, “Something fast-paced, engrossing . . . distracting,” he winced like he’d forgotten himself again, like he was having trouble remembering he was supposed to be a mysterious tyrant who never shared personal details.

“I know just the thing,” Ruby chirped loudly, causing Gold to wince again. A mirrored wince happened at the same time in Belle.

Ruby wandered over to the nearest shelf, paperback sci-fi, and started grabbing blindly while her mind whirred into action. She grabbed a handful of books, winding and returning through a section she didn’t bother checking, only to hide in third aisle and search for a book that seemed the appropriate size. When she found one, she slid inside its cover a thick stack of stapled papers that she’d just folded into a neat, narrow booklet.

“Here ya go, Mr. Gold,” Ruby said upon her return to the circulation desk. He eyed her picks with disdain but accepted the stack with Belle’s encouraging smile.

“Aliens?” he asked. “And . . . romance novels?”

“You said you wanted distracting,” Ruby said.

“Fair enough,” he muttered, mostly to himself, and exited the library after Belle had checked out all his books.

“Belle, _please_ tell me you just saw what I saw,” Ruby said, turning on Belle in a such rush once Mr. Gold was out the door that she jumped at Ruby’s outburst, then ran a hand over her face.

“Saw what?” she asked.

 _His drooping eyes! His nodding head, his trembling hands!_ Ruby wanted to cry, throwing her arms in the air, but all Belle noticed were Ruby’s empty hands.

“Where’s my story?” Belle demanded.

Ruby smiled sheepishly.

“No, Ruby, please, tell me you didn’t!” Belle moaned, head falling into her arms again.

#### ***

 

Mr. Gold’s shop bell tinkled as Belle entered. She pressed her back against the door and eyed around the shop for the pawnbroker. When he failed to make an immediate appearance, Belle worried he was busy in the back, busy with her books, busy with a stack of printed off papers haphazardly stapled, haphazardly delivered, having haphazardly brought her to his door.

Belle tried to go over Ruby’s words in her head again, but she was too busy noting how hot it was in here. Just as hot as the library, if not more. The walk over had been treacherous enough - the sweltering sun laughing as she tottered on her heels and her feet bloomed red in pain, swollen and sweating as the rest of her. Though the shop was dark and absent of the sun’s stifling rays, it was stuffy and muggy and a weak box fan sat on the counter sputtering about as well as the box fan sitting and sputtering on her own library counter.

Looked like his AC had failed as well.

 _Don’t you see?_ Ruby had said. _Did you see him?_

But Belle couldn’t see, her eyes were so dry and tired and blinking. _He looks just as dead on his feet as you do._

There were a myriad of reasons Mr. Gold could be struggling with a good night’s sleep, but Ruby’s meaning was clear. Whatever was happening to Belle, she thought it was happening to Mr. Gold, too.

Belle’s hands shook on the door behind her where they rest, and she pushed herself off gently, moving forward into his shop.

“Mr. Gold?” she called.

She heard something fall behind the counter, and headed in that direction. She rounded the corner when she heard his cursing from beyond the shop’s back curtain.

There he was, standing, having just risen from a plush, striped settee. Books were littered around his feet, the ones he’d just checked out, having likely fallen from his lap when he stood. But in his hand he gripped not a book, but the stack of white papers she was so worried about, his grasp firm and shaking, his eyes narrowed and mouth set in a dark line.

She also noticed the sweat lining his brow, clinging wisps of his hair in strands about his forehead. Red crept from his neck and down into his suit, and Belle noted his stubborn commitment to a three-piece despite the soaring temperatures. He’d removed his tie and undone the first few buttons of his shirt, a change that seemed insignificant and unhelpful in light of the shiny red skin it revealed.

But what truly troubled Belle were the dark circles under Gold’s red-rimmed eyes, and the vacant stare he was blinking away.

 _Don’t you see?_ Ruby had said. And now, Belle saw.

“Your, uh, AC’s out,” Belle said weakly.

“Leroy won’t be in ‘til Friday,” Gold muttered, then his grip tightened on Belle’s papers, and she pursed her lips.

“Leroy’s not coming to the library til Thursday.”

“Are you mocking me, Miss French?”

“Well, I mean, I’ll have working AC a day before you, but not I’m not _mocking_ you, per se - ”

“ _This_ , Miss French,” he said, holding up the papers. “What is this?”

Belle winced, and plucked her skirt where it clung to her thigh. “That wasn’t meant for you, I’m so sorry - “

“Oh no, this was meant _exactly_ for me. How do you know about this?”

“How do I know about - ?” and a very large lump formed in her chest, formed in her throat, and she tried to swallow it down.

“Have you been talking to Dr. Hopper? What other confidentialities has he broken? Perhaps he could offer me something juicy on you as a trade.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, needing the clarification _now_ , _now_.

He threw the papers down at her feet, and she blinked at his abruptness.

“Decided to narrate gossip, did you?”

Belle blushed, and bent down to gather her scattered story in slow, hot embarrassment. “This isn’t gossip, this is . . . ” _a dream, my dream, are you having it too?_

He strode up to her when she rose, shaking and ready to bring a finger to her face, and she trembled, stepping away until her back was to the wall and she had nowhere left to run. However, when his trousers nearly grazed her hip, she looked down in astonishment.

“You liked my story,” she said plainly.

“Liked it?” he said incredulous, then looked down, cringed, and stepped back. His mouth gaped open for a moment or two, and he stared at his feet. When he rose his head, he was a different man.

 _“Liked_ it?” Gold said again, his brows having dragged down in sorrow, his voice hinting at a whine. “I’m miserable, Miss French. I’m desperate. When I asked you for recommendations, I meant something to _distract_ me, not bring my misery into daylight hours. How _dare_ you give this to me!”

“You’re miserable?” Belle asked, voice full of wonder, like a puzzle was solving itself. “I haven’t slept more than four hours in as many days - and you? You also haven’t - ” and she looked down at their feet, all those books, scattered about.

“You’ve been reading,” she said. “Reading to help you forget.”

Gold shook his head back and forth, anger returning. “I don’t need your psychoanalysis. Dr. Hopper’s got enough of that for me, thank you. And rest assured I’ll be having his license for this _breach_.”

“No, you mustn’t blame him, he’s not - “

He narrowed his eyes. “Take your story. Take it away from here. And get out of my shop, Belle.”

It was weird hearing him say her first name. Weird with so much anger, hurt, and desperation attached to it.

“Get the hell out of my shop,” he said again when she didn’t move.

Belle clutched her story to her chest, fingers crinkling the papers and eyes crinkling up in an attempt to keep her trembling emotions in check.

_Are you truly - ? Could it possibly be you - ?_

She nodded briefly, turned, and fled his shop.

Gold stared at the spot she’d been standing in for long moments before punching the wall. When done shaking out the rash pain in his hand, he dug around in his pocket for his cell phone.

He needed revenge, and he needed it _now_ , however small. “Leroy. Push our appointment up to Thursday. Belle French has so amicably offered to trade spots.”

#### ***

 

The dream always started with the sheets slipping around her, tightening, slithering, pressing into her skin and gripping in a very pleasant sort of way. The dark and black of her room and that gentle press into her skin, a wormhole she was sliding through, until her dream accepted her on the other side.

She landed feet first, and the air was cold, and her hand placed in front of her would end up grasping frigid and gritty bars, coming from down and up and tapered into pointing claws in the middle. It wasn’t a frightening place, this cage; it was a hopeful spark, and she pressed her face to the bars.

Her voice exited her throat and a name was spoken, a question mark at the end, a wobbling hope shaking with her hands. But then another hand joined hers, fingers wrapping around hers and a face appearing so near her own she should jump, but she merely smiled.

The dream always obscured the face, obscured the hands. Belle felt rather than saw anything in this dream. But she saw, now. Ruby had told her to _see,_ so she saw.

It was a man with a pointed nose, sharp cheekbones, thin mouth. She knew that mouth.

She pressed her forehead to the bars, her lips, her nose, pushing, pushing, scraping her skin rough against the cage until she willed it out of the way. The bars dissolved and she smiled again as his forehead suddenly connected with hers, his hands left hers in favor of her waist, his lips and his tongue and his teeth and _oh I found you!_

Kissing him was marvelous and sparks jumped and exploded in her stomach from the feel of him. His thighs against hers, sturdy pillars connecting, but she felt the true strength of him in the middle, eager for entrance and his face had fallen to her throat and his lips and tongue and teeth continued there and the feeling was so joyous! She grasped his hair, long and wavy strands, and she breathed him in while hands roamed her back and _I found you!_

The dream was open but she felt that tightness anyway, of the sheets pressing and slithering around her, and wait it wasn’t the sheets it was him, he was removing her clothing and greeting her skin with his and his tongue found her nipple and his hand kneaded her breast, her buttocks. Their stomachs connected, naked flesh against flesh and she laughed from the goodness of it all! Had she ever been this happy?

His form overtook her, heavy and pressing and his mouth roamed her chest and face and eyes and stomach and between her legs and she moved with him, pressing and opening her legs when his hand moved to their center. She moved her hand in between his own legs and felt the happiness he had for her there, the relief that had been waiting, waiting, waiting and _I found you!_

That thin mouth wanted to eat all of her and was speaking words she couldn’t quite grasp as they reached for her, something about love and sorry and joy and _you’re here! How?_ and she couldn't quite speak in return, she could only laugh and smile and touch him to convey her feelings, but he seemed to understand just fine. He mouthed at her stomach then lower, and his hands gripped her hips until little blooms accompanied the tips of his nails where they scraped her and he was so caught up in devouring her he didn’t seem to notice and it was the most wonderful neglect, the perfect thing to overlook as she carded her fingers through his hair and clamped her thighs tighter around his skull.

She rolled him, on top and just where she wanted to be, and it was her turn for her form to take over and she bent like a cat lapping at her milk and she lapped at his face, his neck, and he lapped in return. His arms gripped tight around her and her hands held his face, the lovely thin line of his mouth open and receiving her and _I know this mouth, I’ve seen it in a world beyond this one_ and she moaned and trembled and it was time to take him inside her but as her hand moved down to his chest to reach for him something happened. A small quake around them and his eyes widening, _Oh, Belle, no!_ She didn’t understand at first until her hand fell through him, through him because nothing was there anymore. His body pressed back into dream, the sheets, and parts of him were sinking one by one, stomach, chest, neck, a last gulp of his mouth in a cry and a last bulge of his eyes as _No! What’s happening?_ and he blinked one last time before he sank down, his arms and legs the last to go, feet twitching and fingers trying to claw their way back, red streaks clawing their way down her arms.

Her mouth was open, and something heavy and long was falling out, a noise that shook the sheets around her, made them tremble back and cower away from her.  

Belle woke, eyes blinking rapidly in violent little bursts and she clawed at the bed with ferocity that nearly had her tearing the sheets. Her mouth was open and yelling into the pillow, spittle and anger dragging the case and she bit into the deflating plushness and let her teeth sink in and her yells find a destination there.

She rose from the bed like a shot, quaking, crying. On all fours and clawing, clawing _come back! No!_ It was fruitless, as it always was, and she collapsed onto the bed in tears, hands clenching and unclenching with the nothing she was now holding, bereft of her love, of the man she’d been making love to.

He was gone. Again.

Her ribcage opened and expanded with the hurt of her lungs, loud and noisy, muscles pulling taut from the bone with the ache of it all, and her eyes dried themselves out all over again.

The heat brought her back to reality. God, it was so _hot_ . These summer nights were eating her up, over and over, and the heat was so markedly different from the cool of her dream, and then the heat she’d feel with his skin against hers, and _damn_. This had to stop.

This was it, she decided, rising, wiping at her face, kicking her blanket out from under her.

Mr. Gold.

She didn’t understand, not fully, but she knew if she didn’t go to him now, her thin-mouthed man, they would truly lose each other forever.

#### ***

 

His home was massive and full against the horizon, but it nevertheless felt empty from where she stood.

At the end of his walk, she could see what she assumed was his bedroom light on, and knew that he too must have woken in a violent fit. The skin under her nails still burned from where she’d attacked the sheets, demanding her lover return. She found him now, she was sure, though the feeling wasn’t quite as joyous as her dream. There was trepidation and fear, and she bit her lip.

The heat around her swirled, wind tempting to lift her nightgown, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides, never minding the sweat that trickled down the back of her neck. She stared at the moon above, and it stared back.

She made her way up his walk.

He was there before she could ring the doorbell.

He wore no shirt, and his linen pants were in a crumpled tangle about his legs. His cane trembled where he leaned against it, and his hair was in disarray, and his chest was lovely, and she shook. His mouth, that thin mouth, there it was, and it gave her courage.

“Is it true?” she said. “My story? Did you have these dreams? This dream? Did you dream this too?”

He eyed her with that frothing anger again, or maybe it wasn’t anger, but that same desperation she’d become familiar with over the long course of these wretched, wrecked summer nights.

“Please, I need to know.”

“Yes,” he said simply.

She huffed out a laugh, low and quiet. A laugh of disbelief, of relief.

“Then,” she asked. “What are we waiting for?”

“It’s hard,” he said. “Hard to get started.”

But she held out her hands to him, and he accepted them without fail.

“Please. I can’t afford to lose you again.”

“Nor I,” he said, “please don’t disappear again. Please.”

And he was nodding, hard and fast, and pulling her into him. It was different than the dream, there were no cool bars or cool skin that needed heating. It was hot and sweltering and the air shifted around them like her sheets, tight and oppressive. He moved her inside his house, slamming his door and pressing her against it, and here was where the dream carried right over into reality - the way he kissed, his tongue, his lips, his teeth, the way he started with his mouth and then moved to her neck and shoulder, yes this was the same, this was the dream. His hair in her hands, those soft strands, long and wavy, yes, the same.

Their skin was hot and red everywhere they touched, perspiration and _sex_ and she dragged her hands down his back, nails scraping and the ache between her legs called out to him and he heard readily, a hand cupping her and gasping as no barrier of panties or pajama shorts kept her from him, and he bit and licked at her neck as his fingers entered her with relish. He pressed her against the door, higher, harder, and she rose while wrapping her legs around him. The endeavor lasted only a moment as he had just the one good leg to support them, but when they crumpled to the floor in a messy, sweaty heap, it was with smiles they’d long been withholding, with relief that soon all would be right.

There was little preamble to their lovemaking, their frenzied nights of lucid dreaming had cost them too much time. She touched with awe at his pointed nose, his sharp cheekbones, his long fingers.

“Your mouth,” she said, “I knew it.”

“Your eyes,” he said. “That blue, my blue.”

“Yes,” she said, and he grabbed her thigh, draping it over his hip and he pumped against her, making them both moan. She pushed at his pants, tangled against his skin in sweat and summer heat, and marveled at his cock as it sprang free, red and rigid, leaking for her with enthusiasm.

He gathered her nightgown up and away from her thighs, her hips, mouthed at her breasts for a moment before looking at her, lining them up. His eyes landed on hers, and with her nod, he pressed forward, into her slick heat, so different from the summer around them, and they both sighed.

“Belle,” he moaned, and she liked it when he said her name like that.

They moved together, gentle rocking that soon found its way into hard, firm thrusting, and his nails dug into her hips, and her fingers tangled in his hair. When she looked at him, she saw the sweat on his brow, felt the sweat that made their stomachs slick against each other, and her thighs where they wrapped around him. But she also saw the moisture in his eyes, and felt the moisture dripping from her own, gentle and down into her ears.

She flipped them, and his eyes bulged in that terrible frightening way like they did before he disappeared, but she smiled at him in reassurance. They were here now, _together,_  and nothing would take them away again.

She lined them up again, filled him up inside her, over and over, up and down, and he threw his head back in agony from the pain and pleasure of it all. Before he could sink into the floor, she grabbed for his shoulders, and pulled him up to her. The angle had pleasure blooming inside her, finally, that release she’d been waiting _ages_ for, and he cried with his own release. The air around them finally began to cool, it seemed, or perhaps their blood had simply stopped boiling.

Their breath mingled and he brought his hands to her face.

“You would disappear,” he said, small, gentle. “Up into the air. Like something swooped down to take you.”

“You would dissolve into the bed,” she said. “Sink into it, like quicksand.”

“And I would grab your hands - ”

“And you would grab my arms - ”

“And I would wake up reaching for nothing, falling out of bed - ”

“And I would claw the sheets, digging, trying to find you again - ”

“I’m here,” he said.

“Yes,” she smiled, head landing on his shoulder. “I found you.”

#### ***

 

Thursday and Friday went, and the AC in both the library and Mr. Gold’s pawnshop were finally in proper, working order.

This wasn’t much of a triumph, though, as the heat wave finally passed. The streets no longer glistened with heat, the sun no longer beat down, and the nights were finally filled with the cool breeze of late summer sweeping in across the ocean. Salt was in the air again, against Belle’s skin and her dresses where they no longer clung. Her partner, too, in his usual three-piece suit, returned to the use of his ties and properly buttoned buttons, though she missed that triangle of exposed flesh along his throat and chest.

They were happy, very happy, though they didn’t understand. The bars, the claws, what did it mean? What had it to do with the closeness they now shared, the moments of quiet together, their conversations, their gliding skin, their pressed mouths?

“I think the heat wave just wanted you two to boink,” Ruby said crudely, helping Belle down in the library basement as they stowed away the oscillating fans.  

Belle shook her head dismissively.

“That . . . doesn’t make any sense,” she said, but remembered the way the heat would ripple in the air, like magic encasing the town, keeping anyone from coming in, keeping anyone from leaving. That heat, barreling down around them. It was a silly thought.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” she repeated again, quietly, to herself, chewing her lip, wondering.

“He’s not really going to go after Archie, is he?” Ruby asked. “Like, you cleared that up, right? ‘Cause my boyfriend, you know, needs a job.”

Belle smiled while looking down, remembering their confrontation. “Don’t worry. That’s all been cleared up.”

“Good,” Ruby mumbled, stretching and cracking her back. Satisfied with their work, they rode the elevator back up to the main floor, where Mr. Gold was found resting against the circulation desk, a paperback in his hand.

Ruby’s smile widened as she approached. “Lookie here. Who knew you had an appreciation for love-sick aliens, Mr. Gold?”

He crooked a brow at her, closing the novel and resting it on the counter. “Might I remind you I’m reading this based on _your_ recommendation, Miss Lucas?”

Ruby sniggered, and Belle offered Gold a knowing smile.

“This, though,” he said, motioning to the large volume resting on the counter. “I’m now lead to believe this book was meant to be nothing more than a messenger for Belle’s . . . work, when you selected it for its size, but nevertheless it’s been quite enlightening . . . Belle, may I show you something?”

“Children’s fairy tales?” Belle asked, eyeing the cover.

As Mr. Gold tucked his lover away with him into the shelves for deep conversation, Ruby saddled herself behind the circulation desk, taking Belle’s usual seat. She carded through Gold’s returned books, truly seeing the titles for the first time. In the end she settled for a werewolf novel, its premise suiting her fancy just fine. 


End file.
